


Repercussions

by keep_me_alone



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Sexual Slavery, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sick Character, Sickfic, Slavery, possible PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-20 02:00:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5988270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keep_me_alone/pseuds/keep_me_alone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Obi-Wan deals with the emotional aftermath of Zygerria<br/>Spoilers for the Slaves of the Republic arc<br/>There might be a little slash or implied slash later on but no promises</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Obi-Wan Kenobi was a broken man. He couldn’t admit it to himself or anyone else.

He’d been hiding in his quarters for several hours now. He couldn’t bear to look at Anakin or Ahsoka who both seemed to be handling everything remarkably well, given the circumstances. At the very most, he’d spent maybe a month as a Zygerrian slave, but it had been enough.

The ship was taking them back to Coruscant, where they would be given some time to mend. Obi-Wan knew it wouldn’t be enough. How could it be? He didn’t think a life time of healing could fix this.

 Obi-Wan pressed his back into the foot of his cot. It stung furiously where he contacted the hard metal and he inhaled deeply without easing the pressure. He sat like that for a long moment before moving to a less painful position and beginning to meditate. Or trying to. He found that he couldn’t concentrate. Obi-Wan’s mind kept returning to the other slaves, the beatings they’d endured on his behalf. He felt sick.

Obi-Wan stood gingerly and went to find Anakin. Maybe a sparring match would help.

 

* * *

 

 

“No?” Obi-Wan asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow at his former apprentice. “What do you mean you won’t spar with me?”

“I said no, master.” Anakin replied firmly, brows furrowed, “I don’t think you’re in any condition-,”

“Anakin, if I tell you I am able, I am able. It is not your job to coddle me.”

“It’s not my job to kill you either,” Anakin replied smartly. “Maybe Master Plo will indulge you.”

“You know very well he won’t,” Obi-Wan retorted, “Anakin, I really this could benefit us both.” Anakin appraised Obi-Wan for a moment, weighing his options.

“Fine, but it’s against my better judgment.”

“Excellent, give me your lightsaber.” Anakin complied and Obi-Wan adjusted the power setting. He didn’t put it as low as he should’ve, but Anakin didn’t need to know that. He turned his own lightsaber down as far as it would go, then tossed Anakin’s back.

He ignited his lightsaber and readied himself. Anakin was almost always the first to engage. He was an extremely aggressive duellist, and a difficult opponent at the best of times.

 Anakin darted forwards and Obi-Wan swung his lightsaber up to block as he skipped back. Anakin bore down. Obi-Wan winced as his ribs screamed against the motion and his arms trembled. He pushed back violently, using a touch of Force to aid him. His ribs were on fire, but he still aimed his counter strike. Anakin blocked him easily, but didn’t press the advantage, waiting for Obi-Wan’s next move. Obi-Wan realized with a surge of anger that Anakin was going easy on him. Obi-Wan didn’t think. He attacked viciously, aiming a flurry of blows and surprising Anakin who had difficulty reacting.

Obi-Wan was breathing heavily, his ribs protesting every movement. He ignored the pain, pushing harder against Anakin. Some of his blows landed and Anakin grunted in pain. Obi-Wan had backed Anakin against the wall, still attacking furiously. He could feel Anakin’s frustration across their Force bond. Good. Anakin was defending himself in earnest now. He’d sensed the wall before Obi-Wan had manoeuvred him too close and used it to jump and flip himself over his master. Obi-Wan twisted, but the pain in his ribs made him falter. Anakin’s wild swing hit home, straight across Obi-Wan’s face. Obi-Wan dropped hard and Anakin shouted.

“Master, you didn’t block me,” he said accusingly as he knelt beside his master. Obi-Wan blinked groggily and turned his head to look at his former padawan. Anakin’s mouth fell open, seeing the raw burn across Obi-Wan’s face.

“Don’t look at me like that, Anakin. I’m fine.” Obi-Wan snapped, sitting up. The pain in his chest was such that he could hardly breathe.  He tried to stand and fell back, an agonized noise escaping him.

“Let me help you,” Anakin said, grabbing Obi-Wan’s arm. Obi-Wan recoiled violently, knocking Anakin’s hand away. He looked up at his friend, chest heaving painfully, eyes huge in his drawn face. “Fine,” Anakin said curtly, “I’ll leave you to it.”

Obi-Wan watched him go, regret welling up. He had reacted instinctively. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d known a friendly touch. Obi-Wan climbed to his feet with excruciating slowness. Every part of him ached.

He returned to his room. Obi-Wan had better luck with meditating this time. He tried to coax himself into a healing trance with limited success. He managed to reduce the pain in his ribs and his face. The wounds, left by stinging whips applied without mercy, he left alone. Obi-Wan worked carefully to reduce the swelling and discolouration on his face. When he was satisfied he wouldn’t be permanently scarred, he tried to rest.

Obi-Wan was afraid to sleep. He knew he’d see their faces again, the slaves killed for his disobedience. He didn’t want to hear their screams as they were senselessly whipped to death. Obi-Wan gripped the sheets tightly, wishing as he so often had, that it had been him instead. He stared blankly at the ceiling. Every breath he drew made hot pain shoot through him. He did nothing to dispel it or distance himself from the feeling.

He hadn’t heeded it working long days in the mines, and he would not heed it now. D'Nar had injured him quite badly in their fight so long ago. Obi-Wan was surprised he hadn’t broken anything else. His own pain was bearable; the pain of others however, had always tormented him. Obi-Wan continued to stare blankly at the ship’s curving surface. He wondered how many prisoners had died because of him. He had counted the numbers before many times, but they were often executed en masse. The number varied he thought, somewhere between forty and sixty. He didn’t know. He replayed the memory of the peaceful Twi’lek dropping through the platform again and again, trying to count. Twenty? Twenty five? It was impossible. It had only been a taste of what was to come. Waves of guilt crashed over him. He hadn’t known their names. He didn’t even know their faces.

Obi-Wan agonized until sleep stole him away.

He dreamt again that night. He was on the platform with the other prisoners. The slave master laughed cruelly as he toyed with the lever. He pled, screamed for the slaves to run, to get off the platform. None of the Twi’lek moved. They stared at the metal beneath their feet, giving no sign they understood their fate. Obi-Wan screamed his throat raw as the master continued to laugh. Then as the master moved to pull the lever all the way back, strong arms were around him, restraining him. He cried into Qui-Gon’s chest and inhaled his master’s familiar scent, even as he begged Qui-Gon to help. Qui-Gon did not answer, but to repeat the Code. _There is no death, there is the Force._ Obi-Wan’s cries turned to screams once more as the platform dropped and he was hurtling down, Qui-Gon’s arms still around him. They were falling infinitely, Obi-Wan’s screams torn away by the wind. Falling into darkness, falling, falling.


	2. Chapter 2

Obi-Wan was shaken awake from the same dream he’d had the last three nights. He gasped for air, sweat pouring off of him in sheets.

“Master, are you-?”

“Ahsoka!” Obi-Wan exclaimed. He yanked the bedsheets up, over the raw wounds on his chest.  “What’s going on?” He asked more gently, though he felt more like demanding to know what she was doing in his cabin.

“Well we’re gonna be landing soon, and – and it’s just you were calling out in your sleep again.” _Again, stars that didn’t sound good._ Her voice faltered, “I was worried.” Obi-Wan looked at her sympathetically. Her intentions were good.

“I’m fine, Ahsoka,” he told her mildly. “I’m a Jedi master; I’ve endured worse.” From a very specific point of view, one that completely disregarded the psychological, this was true.

“But master, your chest. It looks infected.” She was correct, of course.

“Turn around,” he instructed. She did and Obi-Wan quickly pulled on a shirt, careful to supress any noise of discomfort. Even the lightest fabrics hurt him. “Come sit with me,” he moved to sit on the edge of his bed. Obi-Wan reminded himself that Ahsoka wouldn’t be hurt because of their conversation. He forced himself to let go of that anxiety. Ahsoka sat. “I am fine,” he reassured her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I am more concerned with your well-being. Have you spoken with Anakin?” It wasn’t just a deflection and he truly was concerned. Ahsoka looked down.

“I- I did try, but you know what he’s like.” Obi-Wan scowled.

“I do indeed,” he agreed grimly. He continued much more gently. “I hope you feel you can talk to me, Ahsoka.” She hesitated.

“Of course, Master Kenobi, it’s just-,” he could sense her turbulent emotions through the Force. He sent feelings of warmth and comfort to her. She looked up, startled. A single glittering tear escaped her and fell to the floor. “I think he’s disappointed with me.” She confessed softly. Obi-Wan’s mouth twisted and he smothered the surging of anger he felt towards Anakin. “He doesn’t seem to struggle this way. I think he’d be upset if I talked to you.” She looked at the floor, eyes bright. Obi-Wan understood Anakin’s need for independence and he knew this extended to his training of Ahsoka, but this was too far.

“Anakin is-,” he searched for the word, “he’s different from most Jedi. He’s much stronger with the Force and he feels things differently. Look at me, Ahsoka.” He turned her chin, brushed away a stray tear. “You are much younger than either myself or Anakin. It is natural to feel overwhelmed by sentiment. You must learn to feel, but also to release your emotions so that they do not control you.” It was a lesson he’d repeated to Anakin many times, apparently with little success. “It might be wise to try again. I know Anakin can be intimidating, but he’s as human as the rest of us underneath.” He would make sure to have a talk with Anakin before that happened.

“Yes master, thank you,”

“I’d like the chance to speak more after we land,” he offered, in case things with Anakin didn’t go as planned. “For now though, we should get to the bridge. I’ll meet you there.” Ahsoka stood and went to the door before bowing deeply.

“Thank you, Master Kenobi.”

“Of course,”


	3. Chapter 3

The council listened attentively as Obi-Wan delivered the report in short, clipped tones. He skimmed over the details of their imprisonment, focusing instead on the political implications in general. When he had finished, Obi-Wan stood with his hands clasped tightly behind him. The stance pulled painfully at the wounds on his chest, but appearances were everything. If he wanted the council to believe he was well, he had to act the part.

“Troubling, this is,” Yoda said finally. “For now, rest in Coruscant, you must.” Obi-Wan and Anakin both began to protest. Yoda silenced them with a wave. “Final, this decision is.”

“You have all made great sacrifices to achieve peace on this mission,” Mace Windu said clearly. “I know that this mission was hard won and that you have lost much in the process. The council will discuss the matter further and inform you if any additional action is required on your parts. But for now, Master Yoda is correct. You must recover spiritually and physically before we can allow you to take on another mission. Lives depend on it.” He looked at each of their faces in turn, “you are all dismissed.”

Anakin allowed himself one long, angry look at the council before he turned and left in silence. Obi-Wan and Ahsoka bowed and murmured their thanks before following Anakin out.  

As the doors shut behind them, Obi-Wan sped up to catch Anakin by the arm.

“A word, Anakin,” it wasn’t really a request. Anakin stopped talking and turned to him.

“Ahsoka, you go on ahead,” the padawan frowned slightly, but did as she was told. Anakin lowered his voice, “If this is about my conduct towards the council, master, please don’t lecture me. They’re being ridiculous!” Obi-Wan snorted.

“This is not about our meeting with the council, though your behaviour was inappropriate,” he decided to ease in to the matter, “have you talked with Ahsoka recently?” Anakin’s expression darkened.

“No,” he replied flatly, as they began to walk.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, the warning clear in his voice.

“What do you want from me, master?” He demanded harshly, “It was only three weeks. She’ll be fine,”

“Anakin, I know this is difficult for you to deal with, but she will not be fine if you continue to ignore her need for support. She is young. She’s afraid, and with good reason.”

“And what do I say?” Anakin retorted angrily, “Sorry Ahsoka, slavery sucks, but eventually you’ll be able to pretend it never happened. It’s not something you _deal with,_ Obi-Wan. It’s something you forget.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan’s tone was much softer, “you must confront this pain. How can you expect to guide and heal Ahsoka otherwise? She needs you, Anakin.”

“I see, so this is a case of do as I say and not as I do.”

“What do you mean?” Obi-Wan’s chest felt tight.

“Ahsoka saw you, Obi-Wan,” his tone was accusatory, “You pass judgement on me, yet you refuse to care for yourself. You’re falling apart at the seams. Trying to stitch us back together won’t fix that.” Obi-Wan recoiled as though Anakin had struck him.

“Your padawan is _suffering,_ Anakin, suffering for _your_ stubbornness and pride. She thinks she’s failed you,” his voice fell as they began attracting curious looks, “she thinks you’re disappointed.”

Anakin turned to him defiantly, “and what if I am? I thought she was stronger than this.” Obi-Wan’s mouth fell open slightly.

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan was aghast, “slavery is not something you just _shrug_ off. She will have lasting psychological damage if you do not help her.”

“There is nothing I can do,” Anakin replied coldly, and stalked off.

“Anakin,” his old padawan didn’t even glance back. Obi-Wan rubbed a hand over his face. The situation was clearly worse than he’d thought. He began the long, slow walk back to his quarters. It was clear that Ahsoka would need more guidance than Anakin was willing, or perhaps even able, to provide. Anakin had been deliberately cruel, and yet… his words repeated endlessly. Obi-Wan touched his burning chest lightly. He could not allow himself to heal, not while others still suffered for him.


	4. Chapter 4

Obi-Wan lay in bed with his eyes closed. His skin was burning. He had to get up though; Ahsoka would be coming any moment. Though every fibre of his being protested, he hauled himself out of bed, staggering into the common room. He set up the kettle, then sat back on his cushion to meditate. The room spun gently as Obi-Wan mentally probed his wounds. His ribs were healing, but the lash wounds that covered most of his torso, were inflamed. They oozed pus and blood. Obi-Wan’s stomach churned. He directed the Force, trying to soothe the wounds with no success. Obi-Wan cursed, just as the door chimed and Ahsoka entered.

“Padawan,” Obi-Wan greeted her weakly, but with warmth.  He stood with difficulty and retrieved the kettle as she sat. Obi-Wan prepared and poured the tea, though this was technically the padawan’s task. When he’d finished, Obi-Wan sat with a relieved sigh. His entire body was one large, gently shivering ache.

“Thank you, Master Kenobi.” Ahsoka accepted the tea gracefully. They quietly sipped for a moment.

“You’re still troubled,” Obi-Wan observed. Concentrating was proving to be quite the chore and even seated, he swayed slightly.

“Yes master.” Ahsoka admitted, “Master Skywalker is really angry with me.”

“Oh Ahsoka,” his heart ached for her.

“He made it clear that I am not to bring it up again.” The hurt was leaking from her Force signature. “Maybe he has a point and I should just forget about it. It’s just that doesn’t seem _right_ somehow,” Obi-Wan smiled sadly.

“Ahsoka, this may come as a shock to you, but Anakin doesn’t know everything.” He was shivering insistently now.

“Master, are you… feeling all right?” Ahsoka said, looking intently into his face. The room pitched wildly as Obi-Wan’s head spun.

“Of course,” his heart was beating against his ribs, “Anakin and I often have differences of opinion.”

“No master, that’s not what I meant. You really don’t look well.”

“Please Ahsoka, I’ve told you before,” he inhaled sharply, “I’m fine.” He tried to centre himself through the Force, but the feeling slipped away.

“I’m- I’m going to call Anakin,” Ahsoka said, activating her comlink. Behind the high flush on Obi-Wan’s cheeks, he was deathly pale.

“That’s not necessary,” Obi-Wan protested faintly.  Ahsoka ignored him and spoke into her wrist.

“Master, I’m with Obi-Wan. There’s something wrong with him. Please hurry. We’re in his rooms.” She cut the link and turned back to Obi-Wan who had struggled his way onto the couch. “Please master, how can I help?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. Ahsoka scowled at him, after all his eyes _were_ closed, and went to the kitchen to dampen a cloth. He was sweating profusely.

Obi-Wan’s breathing was rapid and shallow when she returned. Ahsoka gently pressed the wet cloth to his face, praying Anakin would arrive soon. Ahsoka tried to contain her fear.

“This is unnecessary,” Obi-Wan whispered, startling her.

“If you die, I’m going to be _very_ unhappy,” Ahsoka muttered back.

“That doesn’t sound anything I’ve heard in the koans or Code,” Obi-Wan replied, the ghost of a smile gracing his features. Ahsoka’s snappy reply was cut short by the chiming of the door.

“What’s wrong?” Anakin demanded, sweeping into the room.

“It’s nothing,” Obi-Wan said weakly. “Padawan Tano is overly concerned.”

“Master, please don’t listen to him,” Ahsoka begged, “I thought he was going to collapse.”

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Anakin asked suspiciously.

“I asked her to come,” Obi-Wan confessed quickly. “I wanted to discuss our current… situation.” He still hadn’t opened his eyes.

“Without me?” Anakin was supremely unimpressed.

“Well you must admit… Anakin… you’re being a bit bull headed.” His words were punctuated with short gasps and Anakin realized that he was being distracted.

“Master, you aren’t well.” Obi-Wan sighed and slumped backwards.

“Perhaps… not,” he admitted. Every shiver contributed to the dull ache that overwhelmed him.

“Show me,” Obi-Wan had no strength to resist Anakin’s iron will. He undid the ties holding his shirt up. As the fabric slid down to his elbows and his chest was bared, Anakin’s breath hissed out.

“ _Obi-Wan_ ,” Obi-Wan made a small noise of acknowledgement, “this is serious.” Obi-Wan met Anakin’s gaze squarely.

“Anakin, you’re being dramatic.”

“You’re sick,” Anakin insisted, “we’re going to the Halls of Healing.”

“ _Anakin,”_ Obi-Wan breathed, allowing his eyes to close again.

“Can you walk, or do I need to carry you?”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said again, more irritably, but with exhaustion creeping into his voice.

“Master Kenobi, please,” Obi-Wan’s eyes cracked open. He’d all but forgotten about Ahsoka. “I know Kiros was horrible and I know I don’t have any idea what you went through, but this isn’t helping!”

“Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan’s tone was a warning.

“No. Listen to me, master. Killing yourself won’t honour their sacrifice.”

“Ahsoka!” Obi-Wan snapped, glaring at her.

“My padawan is right, Obi-Wan,” Anakin gave Ahsoka an approving look. “It’s disrespectful to their memory and it’s disrespectful to those who care about you.”

“You don’t… understand,” Obi-Wan gasped.

“You’re right,” Anakin agreed, “I don’t. So why don’t you tell me. Why does _our_ pain mean nothing to you? Do you have any idea how it feels to see you like this Obi-Wan? You couldn’t save those people. There was nothing you could’ve done then, but there is something that you can do now,” his tone softened, “let us help you. You know what it is to look at someone, to watch them die while you stand helplessly by. You have the power to change this, Obi-Wan. Please, don’t make us suffer any more.” Obi-Wan closed his eyes briefly and nodded. “So you’ll come to the healers?” Anakin prompted.

“Yes, Anakin,” Obi-Wan muttered, giving him a dark look as he refastened his shirt.

“Good,” Anakin helped Obi-Wan to his feet. His old master stumbled and Anakin steadied him, cringing at Obi-Wans pained gasp. Anakin Force summoned Obi-Wan’s cloak and carefully wrapped it around him. “Ahsoka, go back to our rooms. We’ll talk when I get back,” Anakin ordered.

“Master,” Ahsoka protested.

“Listen to Anakin. I’ll be fine,” Ahsoka still hesitated.

“Ahsoka, I gave you an order,” Anakin’s tone was firm. Ahsoka stood, hands on her hips and gave him a defiant look. Obi-Wan could sense something was being transmitted through their Force bond. Finally, Ahsoka bowed her head.

“Yes, master,” she left, sparing one last look back.

Anakin gently smoothed the cloak over Obi-Wan’s shoulders before gently wrapping an arm around his waist.

“I can walk,” Obi-Wan huffed half-heartedly.

“And bantha can fly,” Anakin replied lightly.

The walk to the Halls of Healing was a long and arduous one. Obi-Wan was much weaker than Anakin had anticipated, partially due to his raging fever, but also because Obi-Wan had exhausted his ability for Force manipulation. Every step was agony for Obi-Wan. His clothes weighed heavily on his injuries and Anakin’s firm grip was not helping things. He was near collapse when they arrived.  A healer, Vokara Che, took one look at Obi-Wan and began prepping a bacta tank.

“You can undress him or I can,” the healer called to Anakin. Obi-Wan gave Anakin a soulful look. However unlikely, there was still a chance to escape.

“I invented that face,” Anakin told him, reaching for the ties to his shirt. Obi-Wan grabbed his hand, lowering his mental shields. Anakin blinked rapidly, suddenly able to sense his master’s fear and more unsettling, his profound shame. “Master, you have to let us help,” he told Obi-Wan firmly, tugging his shirt off. Obi-Wan offered no further resistance as Anakin impersonally undressed him. Obi-Wan’s confused emotions were still leaking into the Force. Anakin surrounded Obi-Wan with waves of calm understanding and pressed a chaste kiss to his burning cheek.

“I won’t leave you, master,” he promised as Master Che offered Obi-Wan an anaesthetic mask. He pulled it over his face with some difficulty. Obi-Wan grunted as the movement pulled at his wounds, causing some to tear again. Anakin held his breath. His master’s back was a mass of shredded, leaking flesh. When he’d fixed the mask firmly in place, Anakin and Master Che Force lifted him into the bacta tank. Obi-Wan grimaced as his feet touched the slimy, pungent liquid. He tried to control his breathing, and rising panic as he slowly slid into the bacta. The anaesthetic was doing its work though. Obi-Wan fought to remain conscious as he was entirely submerged, bacta forming a film over his open eyes and creeping into his ears. Hazily, he reached out for Anakin. Anakin placed his hand on the outside of the tank and sent a wave of soothing energy to his master as unconsciousness claimed him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty here's Anakin and Ahsoka's conversation

Ahsoka was waiting for Anakin when he returned to their shared quarters. She was pacing anxiously. Anakin folded his arms and cocked his head, looking at her sternly.

“How’s Master Kenobi?”  Ahsoka blurted.

“Snips, you haven’t been waiting here this whole time.”

“I’m worried!” Ahsoka’s face twisted.

“Relax Ahsoka, he’s going to be fine. We got him into a bacta tank and Master Che says he’s expected to make a full recovery.”

“But he was so sick,” Ahsoka looked up at Anakin with huge eyes.

“Jedi have exceptional healing powers, you know that.” He chastised her gently. “You know you’re not supposed to be that attached anyways.”

“And _you_ weren’t worried at all.” Ahsoka replied sarcastically.

“He’s my master.” Anakin said irritably, “it’s different.”

“Does that mean I’m allowed to worry about _you_?” Ahsoka asked.

“Ahsoka, you don’t _need_ to worry about me. Everything is fine now. It’s over, we’re safe.”

“Is everything really over master? Obi-Wan and you both still have nightmares and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to stop hearing the things that slaver said to me and you want to pretend everything’s ok, but it’s not, master, it’s not and I’m afraid.”

“You know I’d never let anything happen to you.” Anakin sounded angry.

“But you couldn’t’ve done anything, master. They starved me and hung me in a cage and you weren’t there,” the words sounded desperate and sad, even to her own ears.

“I did everything I could, Ahsoka,” his voice was low and dark, “and I did rescue you and Obi-Wan.”

“I know that, master,” she replied quietly, looking at the floor, “but I gave up. I let my mind dissolve into the Force and I don’t know how to come back from that. I don’t know how to escape the fact that I accepted my own death, and that I knew it would be long and painful and that I made myself okay with it. Nothing seems real anymore and sometimes I wonder if I really did die on Zygerria.” Anakin bent to her level. He held her shoulders tightly.

“I promise you will recover from this, Ahsoka,” he said fiercely. “You are safe and you are alive and you _will_ be well. I don’t have all the answers and I don’t know what I can do to help you heal, but I’m doing everything I can. You just have to keep going.”

 And then Ahsoka had wrapped her arms around him and was clinging to him as if the world was ending. Anakin awkwardly returned the embrace. He wished that Obi-Wan was there. He had always been better at handling emotions. Anakin patted her back gingerly.  

“Come on Snips, it’s ok.” Ahsoka sniffed, then let him go. She tried a watery smile.

“I hope so master,”

“Let’s practice a kata and then we can go to the mess, ok?”

“Yes, master.”

 Ahsoka wouldn’t bring up Zygerria with him again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am currently writing the conversation Anakin and Ahsoka had, it's going to be published as the fifth chapter and this'll be the sixth XD

 

Obi-Wan blinked several times, clearing the lingering bacta from his eyes. The bacta’s disgustingly sweet odour clung to him. Obi-Wan groaned. The smell would take weeks to fade. Fingers squeezed his, and Obi-Wan realized that Anakin was holding his hand.

“Master?” Obi-Wan turned to look at his former padawan.

“Hmm?”

“How are you feeling?”

“Cold,” Obi-Wan mumbled. He regretted it as Anakin withdrew his hand. Anakin pulled a thick blanket over him, carefully pulling it up to his shoulders. He sat on the bed. Obi-Wan placed his hand over Anakin’s. “Will the student now lecture the teacher?” Obi-Wan asked, amusement colouring his soft words.

“No,” Anakin replied with disapproval, “although somebody probably should.” He took Obi-Wan’s hand, kneading it with his thumb. “You’re setting a pretty poor example.”

“Coming from you, Anakin, that doesn’t mean as much as it should.” Anakin gave him a look.

“I’m serious Obi-Wan. Don’t do that again. You almost died,”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighed, “you’re being dramatic. I’m perfectly alright.”

“And they say I’m stubborn,” Anakin snorted, “You realize this will delay your return to active duty.”

“Yes I am aware. Things got rather out of hand more quickly than I’d anticipated. It just didn’t seem right to care for myself when so many others were suffering. Especially given that many were suffering _because_ of me.” Obi-Wan sighed again, closed his eyes. Anakin squeezed his hand.

“I know, master, but there was nothing that any of us could have done. That’s kind of the nature of slavery,” Anakin remarked dryly.

“Yes, I see that now,”

“One good thing did come of this disaster,”

“Oh, and what’s that?”

“Ahsoka gets to learn from your mistakes and I don’t have to talk about… well certain aspects of my past.”

“Anakin,” Ob-Wan said with disapproval.

“Relax, I’m mostly joking,” Anakin replied. “We did talk. I know you were concerned about that. She’s doing better.”

“And yourself?”

“I’m fine, master. I’m always fine.”

“Don’t lie to me, Anakin. You know I can always tell.” Anakin snorted.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, master.” He shrugged, “it’s the same as it ever was. It was a reminder. It’s not like I’d forgotten. It’s always there.” He shifted, pulling his hand away to cross his arms. Tired as he was, Obi-Wan sent him feelings of calm, of release.

“Is there still no chance, Anakin?”

“It’s too late, Obi-Wan,” Anakin half turned, face lost in shadow.

“I refuse to believe that,” he replied intensely. “Tell me how to help you, Anakin, anything in my power and it _will_ be done.”

“Just leave me alone,” Anakin said softly, without malice. He didn’t look at Obi-Wan, just turned and in a storm of dark robes, was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> This is an example of me writing the fic I want to read ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> I'm super mad at the writers for failing to explore the emotional aftermath of the Slaves of the Republic arc bc honestly who would be ok after that?? No one not even a Jedi jfc


End file.
